Seven Ways to Get to Know You
by celticvampriss
Summary: A little ways down the road, Emma and Killian are together. And this is how they learn more about each other/grow as people through the lens of various sexual encounters. Each chapter is a place/situation type of style where every place will have some sort of mild 'kink' involved. This is basically smut, so you are warned. Captain Swan.
1. The Station-Restrained

**A/N: I don't know if this is technically a 'smut' fic, but it's pretty much just...sex. So you're warned. This is one of my weaknesses in writing. So I wanted to push myself to try. I just hope you enjoy it, kinda a little filler for the hiatus I guess. Cause we could all use some Captain Swan smut, am I right? Thanks for reading. **

**SEVEN WAYS TO GET TO KNOW YOU**

_The Station/Restrained_

Emma Swan wiggled against the metal restraining her wrists.

"_Give_ me the key."

"No, I don't think I will."

She tried to pull the handcuffs free, but they only slid up and down along the bar she was chained to. After finally accepting her situation she focused instead on the cause. Killian sat on the edge of a desk, arms crossed and legs extended. And all too smug as he studied her without remorse. With her hands cuffed above her head the view was pretty uninhibited.

Eventually, his smug appraisal was replaced with a self assured smirk. "Given your propensity for restraints, I thought you'd appreciate the reciprocation." There was an impish glint in his eyes that made her shiver. He stood up; arms still crossed and casually approached her—knowing that every step mingled anticipation and hunger.

Backing her into the bars, his face hovered above her, eyes lowered. "If you truly wish to change your mind, say the word and—"

"No." She sucked in a breath and met his eyes. "No. I'm not backing out." Her head tilted upwards, reaching for him, but he kept his distance. "I may not have been expecting you to meet me at _work_ but…but I agreed and…I want to." She swallowed, wishing he'd just fucking kiss her already.

Her eyes found the clock, once again affirming that there was little chance for interruption at two in the morning. She had already started to turn out the lights to head home when Killian had stormed in and decided otherwise. Every step he'd taken after chaining her to a random cell had been in savoring the moment. Even now he seemed content just barely pressed against her. Her arms still trapped over her head and unable to pull him closer or touch him or slap him.

But she wouldn't beg. Not so soon, at any rate.

Emma felt the edge of her shirt flutter against her waist, a thin point of pressure began to work up her spine. Her tongue swiped at her lips as her breathing grew heavy. It was killing her not to fidget. Not to writhe or shift and she hadn't quite managed to keep her head from falling sideways against her arm, eyes fluttering closed. Her vision refocused briefly and allowed her to catch his fascinated stare. Fucking bastard.

Her glare was murderous, her skin already crawling as she flexed the muscles in her thighs unconsciously. He dipped his head forward, his lips leaving a phantom trail of heat and frustration up her neck. Pressure. There was no fucking pressure. Barely any contact and it was driving her mad. Emma brought up her left knee sharply hoping to evoke some _real_ contact, but he anticipated the move and caught her leg in his hand. Fucking damn it.

She could feel his laugh against her neck. "Now, now, darling. That could have put a _serious_ limitation on things." His mocking tone made her livid.

Growling, she hit her head back against the bars. He hadn't released her leg. Instead gliding his fingers up the back of her thigh. When he reached the back pocket of her jeans his grip tightened, squeezing as she was hefted upwards. Her back jolted along the uneven bars until she was lowered back down with a leg on either side of his knee and her feet off the ground.

Emma sucked in a breath, impulsively reaching to grab the back of his head for support, but still unable to move her arms. The hand that had lifted her swung around to her waist, pushing and pulling her, guiding her hips until she no longer needed the help. The fabric between them, the friction with each slow roll of her hips, it contented her momentarily. It wouldn't last long, but at least she had been given some control.

Free of her hips, he unhooked the button of her jeans and began to push as much of the fabric back as there was room for. She felt a finger running along her stomach, stretching the elastic under her jeans as his thumb ran slow teasing circles over thin-moistened-cotton. A low hum eased from his throat as his fingers danced just shy of close enough. He lowered her the couple inches to head level, sucking in a breath against her neck before igniting the slow building itch between her thighs. With a quick turn of his wrist his fingers began kneading with firm determination as he coaxed a surge of arousal and a sharp jump in her hips. His mouth continued to assault her neck from every conceivable point and angle in a melee of teeth, tongue, and lips.

Her arms strained against the handcuffs, pulling them as far as they would go, oblivious to the ache around her wrists. The pace had drastically quickened. Her shirt was hefted to her shoulder blades. His left hand traced the edge of her bra, hooking the middle before cutting through it completely. He trailed teeth and mouth down her neck, skipping over her shirt and pushing the edges of her destroyed bra to either side. Mastering her body in two places at once.

When his hand suddenly stopped she nearly whined audibly, but Emma choked it down as he re-pinned her to the bars. Meeting her lust darkened gaze fiercely and with _clear_ possessiveness in maddening blue eyes as each finger was licked clean. Meticulously thorough, Emma followed every swipe of his tongue with predatory precision. And it wasn't clear who was more turned on when he stopped and began to untie the laces of her boots. One boot was pulled off by the heel and she was eased to the ground. Then the other. Socks next. Then everything below her waist was stripped off in one go.

The cuffs were starting to rattle, metal clanging as she tried to fight the bonds. He was still fully dressed and she wanted to tear those restricting jeans, throw that maroon vest over his head, rip open the button up underneath. Before she could stop herself she groaned.

Killian's hand went to her wrists, stilling them. He shook his head and caught her eye as his fingers soothed the sore skin. "This is about you, Emma." She met his eyes, jaw tensed and body throbbing. "Stop fighting and just let yourself go."

"I-I don't think I can." She choked, her breathing still labored. She swallowed back a sob, the swell of everything crashing over her. Her emotions began to do a tail-spin into erratic. Suddenly tears formed behind her eyes but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. She didn't know what she wanted from him. She didn't know what she wanted from herself. And for a few minutes her mind couldn't decide if she wanted anything at all.

He brought his hand from her wrists and held her chin lightly. "I am _not_ going to hurt you, Emma. You can trust me. Let yourself go." She must not have been hearing right, because it sounded like he was pleading with her. There was tenderness to his words that only hinted how much he needed this too.

She shook the cuffs again. A feeble push against the loss of control. And watching her head fall forward was the most he could take. He fished the key from his pocket and held it up to her.

"I'm not going to force you." His blue eyes held no light, no joviality. The sincerity of his gaze is what made her pause. He still held the key, waiting for her to give him the signal to release her or continue. Emma bit the inside of her cheek and stared at the key. Back and forth for several minutes she lingered. Because it was scary. Giving someone else complete control over you was terrifying. And she'd never, _never_, let that happen before. Never given up her own dominance of the situation. Especially involving anything sexual. But no one else had ever asked her to, either. No one else had demanded her complete faith in them. No one else had known that it was something she needed.

Swallowing, Emma looked past the key. He was probably feeling wretched. Let down that she couldn't get past her own issues. But that was the point of this. That was the point of the deal. Trying new things was going to help them through the hang-ups. His and hers. Right now it was Emma's turn to grow. Emma's time to take a step. So she looked past the key and kissed him. Firmly and completely. Because she was still terrified. She was still unsure. But she was willing to take a chance with him.

Killian kept the chastity of the kiss intact. Emma was still half naked and handcuffed in his arms, but even thinking about that couldn't spoil the honesty of the gesture. Her kiss was a show of faith. And in that moment any carnal desire was simply just not as important. She was taking a chance on him. Something he still didn't believe he deserved. And he was not going to take that for granted.

It was Emma that took the initiative, parting her lips and demanding that he get his head back in the game. The key returned to his pocket and he smiled into the kiss. She could sense that he was working on his own clothes, never quite breaking from her lips as buttons popped from their place. Emma was granted only a few seconds to admire her view while he shrugged off shirt and vest. His fingers wove into her hair as he resumed kissing her, but Emma could feel denim along her legs and nipped hard on his lip in protest. His head jolted backwards mechanically and he brought his hand up to his mouth. Emma only raised an eyebrow, conveying exactly how little she cared about his pain. He ran his tongue over the swelling as his smirk twisted into something bordering on sinister. Which told her exactly how little he cared about her frustration.

His hand pressed her shoulder backward, jarring her. He leaned into her and his eyes narrowed savagely. "You're not in control of this, Swan." He spoke against her cheek. He held her in place while his left arm glided along her stomach and up her sternum, circling once and then twice and then over until she was arching into the sudden pressure of steel. Air hissed through her teeth, unfortunately she had given him exactly what he intended. "Now." He traced his nose along her jaw, never once relinquishing the slow taunting across her chest. "Try and keep still."

"What?" She spoke out of surprise, not liking the way his voice had dropped to a low whisper.

She felt puffs of breath move from her cheek to her neck and then down. His arms were at her sides, fingers gripping and metal running along her skin. And then his breath hit her stomach. Her hips twisted in place, expectation coursing through her veins. He stopped and hovered over her.

"Still, Emma."

"I fucking hate you." Her voice didn't even sound like her own. Deep and snarling, rising up from some carnal region of her brain.

His reply was an arrogant smile.

"So fucking much."

She could hear him shifting his weight to his knees. And her mind was on repeat. _I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate—holy—_

"—Shit." The word slipped unbidden from her mouth. Her head rolled to the side and then backward. A few choice minutes of suspended satisfaction and tensed muscles. Each of her legs ended up draped over his shoulders. His mouth continued decisive, savoring strokes while idle fingers slipped into the growing harmony of skillfully wielded instruments. And each note was hit and played to the fullest. Unwittingly her hips had begun to grind, forcing his head to follow…and she craved more. It wasn't _quite_ enough. The sensations were right, but it wasn't what her body wanted.

And thank fucking heaven he agreed.

She was eased off his shoulders. He didn't allow for a moment of space between them as his face drew level with hers. Then he waited. Testing her. And despite him still wearing pants, she could _feel_ that it wasn't just her being deprived. She desperately wanted to jerk her hips in encouragement, but she waited too. He worked off his jeans and Emma bit her lip. It was a matter of seconds, when neither could quite stand it any longer, when he believed that she had finally accepted his control.

It might have been the waiting that had them crashing together with violence bordering on feral. Emma's fingers curled around the bars to help steady her head from smashing into them as her body was rhythmically jolted over and over and over. The chain linking the handcuffs rattled incessantly over moans and the metrical smack of skin slicked with sweat and sex. Minutes and seconds blended into a meaningless illusion. She didn't know how many times she repeated the word 'fuck.' But it was a mixture of that combined with a few outbursts of his name that she had eventually screamed until her voice cracked. And all at once she was unraveling into a contented jumble of relaxed muscles.

They caught their breath together: Emma leaning on the bars, Killian leaning on her. It was another few minutes before he fished through the clothes at their feet for the key and unlocked her. Emma's wrists were completely sore, but the first thing she did once free was run them over his face and up through his hair.

He laughed as his head was whipped side to side with the force of her massaging. Finally, when she felt his head was good and mussed, she started to fix her shirt and pick up the rest of her clothes. The bra was stuffed in her pocket since he'd ruined its only function by ripping through it. She flicked her hair out of her coat as she hovered near the exit.

"You coming or what?" She called, motioning to the door. He just finished the last button on his vest and went to retrieve his own jacket. It was currently the only piece of leather he still wore. The eyeliner had stayed. Because fuck it, he made it work. He held the door for her and then she turned to lock it. The night air stung and she shrugged into her jacket as they walked.

She may have been hesitant at first. Their relationship was still pretty new. But things had just evolved quickly. Life or death situations had a serious effect on the traditional timeline of relationships. She didn't know how the conversation had been brought up, either. She only knew that it had occurred in the middle of the night as she brushed her teeth. She had doubted that being more 'adventurous' would do much for them as a couple. Not emotionally, anyway, where they were both in need of the most work. But if tonight had shown her anything it was that she had been very wrong about that.

She had been hesitant at first. But as they walked home the promise of whatever new endeavor they could explore next spurred round two as they fell into her bedroom.

* * *

**A/N: The plan is to do a Place/Thing for each chapter that has the characters learning something new or growing emotionally with each other. The idea to use sex to explore that is just me trying to come up with an excuse to write sex since I'm so squeamish and insecure about writing it. Quarter of the way through a chapter two, so we'll see what happens. Thank you for reading. ^_^  
**


	2. Dressing Room-Confessions

**A/N: Each of these chapters are going to be mostly separate entries. Each one will change in mood and overall tone depending on the place and action. Not all of the chapter will include kinks, but fetish type things and different types of sexual encounters. Just putting that out there. This particular chapter is lighter in tone. There aren't any moments of profoundness or angsty issues addressed, but that's not the point for this particular scene. Hope you still enjoy as I hope that it is still full of smuty material that is always fun to read. I have some serious plans as this story progresses so stay tuned and I hope you enjoy it.  
**

_Dressing Room/Confessions_

Maybe it had been triggered, in part, by boredom. That day they had already been particularly drained of interest. The weather had been misty and cold. Henry was in school. Work had been slow. Shopping had just been something that passed the time as well as a necessity. Even durable jeans didn't last forever. And maybe it hadn't helped when he had sought Emma's approval for each new pair he tried on.

But that look in her eyes had been unmistakable. Starting where the denim bunched around his boots and working upward. Emma glanced to either side before walking him backward, ignoring the incessant chime as they passed into the fitting room. His reflection rippled as he was backed into a mirror.

Killian checked over her shoulder, up and down the aisle, then guided her into the room he'd been using. Emma was impatient. Her lips and hungry fingers vying for his attention as he tried to work the door closed. The space was cramped. The door only just managed to close around them. Her knees buckled against the square ledge meant to be a seat and she pulled him with her as she fell.

He was completely enraptured in letting her worm her hands under his shirt, in the unrelenting wandering of her mouth, the rush of her enthusiasm paralyzing him. She rose to her knees on the bench, stretching to reach his lips, yanking him lower with a hand on the back of his head. Their lips and tongues clashed chaotically, fumbling over each other like inexperienced teenagers. The onslaught had him grinning into each eager kiss.

Emma caught her breath, hovering near his face. Her eyes were closed and her fingers held the front of his shirt. "Can't say I've ever actually done this before." She laughed and then muffled the sound with her hand. His eyes lingered on the impatient flexing of her fingers against the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"And you never forget your first."

She fell against him as they shared muted laughter. Emma licked her lips, watching his mouth as she rolled her shoulders. "Speaking of…I guess it doesn't matter if I tell you this now…" She bit her lip, the faintest blush tinting her skin.

Killian brought up his hand, running knuckles over her cheek. "Is this a confession?"

"Maybe." Her eyes lowered.

He dipped his head, stealing a quick kiss. "If you're confessing to wanting me since that fated day on that beanstalk…" He smirked against her cheek. "That's not exactly a secret, love. But I'd gladly hear you admit it."

Her head rolled backward, drawing his lips to her throat. "Not what I was going to say." Her fingers threaded through his hair before lifting his head so she could meet his eyes. Stormy sea green eyes laced with a provocative desire that begged to be tempered. "When we finished climbing…you bandaged my hand?" The tip of her finger traced his mouth. "With your teeth? Well, for a second there," Her eyes worked their way up his face, "Was more than a little distracting. And…under different circumstances…might have actually succeeded—"

They didn't attempt to be quiet. Mouths open and devouring each moan. Teeth collided. Elbows banged into the narrowed walls and rattled the frame. The sudden force of her against him threw his balance and they fell, slamming his head backward and sending another clatter through the partitions.

He spoke in a gasp, "Giants…" Emma's tongue filled his mouth. "…cannot smell…" his teeth caught her bottom lip, "…blood."

She lifted her head away and her eyes narrowed, but the sudden repeated chiming at the door halted any talking. They tried to keep their breathing even, less heavy. They followed the sound of footsteps as they passed by their stall. There was no space between the door and floor, but they could see shoes through the angled slots. Emma was still pinning them both to the wall and neither dared to move. A door opened further down. Then the gentle clink of hangers on hooks.

Emma berated him with her eyes, still not daring to speak. Amusing as her pursed lips and forced indignation were he wasn't distracted as easily. One handed he maneuvered the button of her jeans. Emma's eyes went wide as the edges of her jeans were casually worked aside. In the heated silence he could see her mind warring, hear the slamming of her heart and the occasional shuffling of whoever had entered the fitting room.

"Don't." She warned with a shake of her head, but she was grinning. The elastic of her waistband stretched against his fingers. Emma's eyes fell, lips parting and jaw locking. Her voice was low and dark, "You even _think_ about…"

A twist of his wrist halted her warning and her eyes fluttered. Their position was still not ideal. Awkward straining of limbs as they slid as quietly as possible to the floor. He attempted to direct her back onto the bench. The glare she sent him was murderous, but there was no remorse as he matched it. His arm was pulled along with her waist until she was seated, her arms spread up the walls to keep balance. Finding a better angle his hand dove, earning a quiet hiss from Emma.

"While we're confessing…" He was deliberate in toying with her. Drawing out maddening lines until warmth soaked his fingers. "You should know that while you might have won that sword fight by the portal." He kissed up her neck gently, pressing with his lips along with each intentioned thrust of his hand. "But only because I wasn't trying." His left arm was braced against the wall and she clung to it as her glances of protest melted into stifled groans. Working down the barrier of her clothes, his thumb began to search in slow arcs until he heard that quick hiss of breath. A smug grin spread to his eyes as he continued delicate wandering over her neck. "Had you not landed on that compass, there was every possibility of me taking my chances with more preferred activities."

The amount of satisfaction he found in watching her—restrained twitches of her mouth, the rolling of her neck, the gentle rise and fall of eyelashes—in every way that directly responded to him was a hazardous blend of exhilaration and impatience. The friction of smooth wet skin against calloused fingers every bit as frustrating as it was arousing. Each second, each jerk of her hips, each muted gasp hit him like bricks until his head was falling onto her shoulder in complete distraction.

The sensation of hurried hands pulled at the hem of his jeans. The balance of power shifted again, knocking him backwards once more and engaging another fit of trembling throughout the fitting room. In each rushed intake of air there was a slackened awareness to their surroundings. When Emma's hands had finally moved enough material and lithe fingers folded over him, she had to leap forward, swallowing the unconscious rise of sound from his throat. She had him pressed into the corner, her hand working in metered strokes. Kissing wasn't an option or they wouldn't have been able to breathe.

They were getting loud again. The wall beginning to creak in time with their actions and hiding it from no one. Vaguely they registered the tapping of the stall door on its hinges and a few huffed mutterings before the chime at the entrance was ringing. The faintest grin lit his face before he was hitting his head backward. Emma had moved to her knees, removing each boot before throwing the pants he had meant to buy somewhere behind them. Heat was starting to build in that cramped space and it was nearly distracting. Nearly. And there was no fathomable end to his appreciation for the position and angle of the room's two mirrors.

Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, Emma rose to her feet. She attempted arrogance, a haughty tilt to her chin. As he caught his breath he regarded that self-satisfied smirk. If she thought this was over she was sorely mistaken. He caught her waist and pulled her closer. He ran his face over her hair, savoring the flavor of her scent as he began edging down her jeans.

Their eyes met when he pulled away from her hair and the superior air in her eyes darkened. There were no more shared words. No further teasing. A gentleman always returns a favor. And Killian Jones was always a gentleman.


End file.
